


5 Times Jesse Pinkman Set the Table

by biblionerd07



Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-22
Updated: 2014-01-22
Packaged: 2018-01-09 14:23:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1147030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biblionerd07/pseuds/biblionerd07
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Throughout his life, he set the table for different people, for different reasons, and with different results.</p>
            </blockquote>





	5 Times Jesse Pinkman Set the Table

_One_

“You put the fork on the left,” Jesse’s mom instructed.

“All alone?” He asked. He was six and his head barely topped the table.

“Sometimes you have more than one fork.” She explained. “So all the forks are on the left side.”

“But we only have one.” Jesse pointed out. “The knife and spoon are together. Doesn’t the fork get sad he’s all alone?” His mom looked at him like he was being strange. He shrugged at her, still holding the fork because he didn’t want to set it down and doom it to its loneliness.

“It’s just a fork, Jesse.” She said, taking it out of his hand and putting it on the left of the plate since he didn’t seem like he was going to. She shook her head and went back to the kitchen, wondering how she’d ended up with a child who worried about the feelings of forks but not learning his phonics.

Jesse tapped the fork. “Sorry.” He whispered. “I’ll come back later and keep you company.”

 

 

 

_Two_

“Should we have some dinner?” Aunt Ginny suggested. It had been a long day of doctors and waiting rooms and big words and cancer. Jesse was exhausted; he couldn’t imagine how she must’ve felt, adding being sick to the mix.

“You don’t have to make anything,” he said. “I’ll order a pizza.” He didn’t want her to feel like she had to cook for him, and they both knew his expertise ended at sandwiches. Aunt Ginny smiled.

“Thank you, Jesse. You're such a good boy.”

“You go chill on the couch.” He commanded. “Relax!”

He ordered the pizza and then peeked into the living room. Ginny had nodded off on the couch. Jesse went back in the kitchen and pulled out two plates and two glasses. He found some juice and mixed it in a big pitcher. He grabbed a fork for Ginny, because she liked to cut up her pizza when she ate it, no matter how many times Jesse called her crazy. He put paper towels on the table, too. He didn’t forget anything—only the best for Aunt Ginny.

 

_Three_

He was home again, the only place he could think to go when his meth-paranoia drove him out of his house. Now that he was here, he didn’t really want to be. He didn’t want to talk to his parents; it wasn’t a place he’d ever felt especially comfortable or safe. He regretted coming back, especially with the look in his dad’s eyes and his mom’s pointed critique of how long he’d been wearing his clothes. He felt like his parents were just totally judging him.

He wanted to show them he wasn’t a bad guy, to show them he wasn’t a waste of space. He went into the kitchen and started setting the table, being careful to do everything right and not get the fork and spoon mixed up. He had the hardest time remembering which went on the left and which the right.

He knew they were talking about him. He could hear them. They were trying to decide whether or not to kick him out. He didn’t really want to be there, but he didn’t want them to kick him out. That would just prove he was a lowlife, a nobody. Maybe if he could set the table exactly the way they liked it, they’d remember he was their son.

 

_Four_

It was already the most uncomfortable dinner Jesse had ever been at, and it hadn’t even really started. Mr. White was perched smugly on the sofa, surveying his kingdom, while Jesse paced awkwardly around the living room. The resentment was radiating off his wife and Jesse didn’t know what to do.

“Yo, uh, Mrs. White, you need any help?” Jesse asked.

“No.” Mr. White answered for her. “I’m sure she’s fine.” Mrs. White offered nothing. Jesse swallowed.

“Well, I mean, uh…how about I set the table?” He offered. He needed to do something with his hands because he felt awkward as shit and he didn't like sitting around and having people wait on him.

“Thank you.” Mrs. White said, her tone frosty as ever. She pulled out the plates and set them on the counter for him to transfer to the table, repeating the process with glasses and silverware. Jesse nodded at her.

“Yeah, don’t worry, I totally know how to set the table. Won’t screw up.”

Her only response was a raised eyebrow and Jesse sighed quietly. Okay. He carefully laid the table, forks on the left, knives and spoons on the right. Glasses above the plate. Shit, where did wine glasses go? They hadn’t used wine glasses when he’d learned to set the table. He shrugged a little to himself and just put them next to the regular glasses. Apparently he’d spoken too soon when he’d promised not to screw up.

Overall, it proved to not be the worst part of his night.

 

_Five_

He felt empty, hollowed out from telling Schrader everything. He thought about that lame old quote, “The truth will set you free.” He didn’t feel free. He didn’t feel anything. He just felt exhausted.

“Are you hungry?” Schrader’s wife asked. She was being super hospitable to him and Jesse guessed it was because she wanted to keep him alive and functioning so they could use him. Using him was really the only reason people wanted to help him. He shrugged. He wasn’t hungry, not really, but he wasn’t sure when he’d last eaten and he figured he should maybe eat something just to eat.

“Come on into the kitchen. I’ll fix you something.”

She pointed Jesse to sit at the table and he sat with his eyes unfocused in a stupor before coming to his senses.

“Hey, uh, should I set the table?” He asked, his voice sounding harsh to his own ears. It was raspy from talking and crying all day.

“What’s that?” She popped her head into the kitchen.

“Um, I just…I can set the table.”

She had a weird look on his face and Jesse looked away, figuring she was probably worried he’d steal her plates or break one over her head or something. He could feel her eyes on him and he shrugged.

“That would be great.” She said softly, surprising him. “Steve’s eating with us, too, so there will be four of us.”

She let him get the plates down himself and pointed out the silverware drawer. It felt nice, a mechanical task he didn’t have to think too hard about, not being watched and judged and supervised for once. She smiled at him when he was done.

“That looks great, Jesse.” She still had that strange look on her face, a sort of half-smile but with sad eyes. “Thank you for helping.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea if Jesse set the table at the Most Awkward Dinner Ever, but I like the idea. Same with eating at the Schrader's--who knows if they had some fun little family dinner or whatever. But a girl can dream!


End file.
